


Let's Go to the Movies

by Darksidekelz



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Chains, M/M, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksidekelz/pseuds/Darksidekelz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex suggests Blast Off allow himself to be tied up.  Blast Off agrees.  Blast Off regrets agreeing.  Blast Off might be a fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go to the Movies

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you harutemu for this prompt! I have finally written some Combaticons!

How had Blast Off allowed himself to be talked into this?  ' _It's just chains,'_ Vortex had said.  _'C'mon Blasty, it's like baby's intro to S & M.  Everyone does it.  You know they do."  _

Blast Off had some doubts about _that_ , and he had even more doubts about giving up his freedom of movement and allowing Vortex, of all mechs, to have his way with him.  But he never _had_ been able to say 'no' to those big, red puppy dog eyes.  In the end Vortex got his way, and all Blast Off had gotten was a promise that Vortex would never again call him 'Blasty.'

But what should it matter?  It was just a couple chains.  How bad could it be?

. . .

He should have known better than to underestimate Vortex's creativity.  Here he was, bound up, dangling upside down from the ceiling of a human _movie theatre_ of all places, energon rushing to his head, giving him a massive processor ache and leaving him feeling less sexy than he'd ever felt in his life.

Making matters worse were the handful of surviving humans that remained in the theater, too terrified of the killer Decepticon sitting on the crushed middle three rows, optics focused in rapt attention on the screen, to run for their lives.  It was bad enough that Blast Off was chained upside down and then ignored, but the fact that there were _squishies_ watching him, judging him – that was too much.

"Vortex!" he snarled.  The tip of a rotor gave the slightest twitch, but otherwise Mr. Worst Date-Night ever remained unresponsive.  Blast Off tried again.

"Vortex, you colossal aft!  Get me the frag down night now, or you will wish you were never forged!"

"Keep it down; I'm watching the movie."

An angry pressure was building in Blast Off's head – most likely from his upturned state, but sight the insolent mech a few rows up didn't hurt.  When he got down from here, he was gonna wring that skinny copter neck, he swore.

"Vortex," he tried again, forcing himself to vent, in an effort to regain _some_ degree of control.  "Why did you invite me out here if you were just going to ignore me?"

"Why did you trust me to tie you up?" Vortex countered without looking back.  "Ooh!  That was a good one!  Ohhh man!"  Somewhere on the big screen, a helicopter had just been brought down in a ball of flames by a swarm of flying Earth dinosaurs. 

Blast Off wanted to scream, to struggle, to let his anger win out, but this was Vortex.  The little aft craved attention – he wanted Blast Off to do exactly that.

Like hell.

Blast Off may have been angry, but he was dignified – upside down or not.  He could still come out on top here – he'd been dealing with Vortex for millennia; he wasn't going to lose now.  He closed his mouth, ignored his discomfort, and focused on the movie – boring fleshies fighting boring Earth monsters in a boring organic jungle.   He couldn't understand why Vortex liked this shit.

A solid thirty minutes passed in silence before Vortex chanced a glance back at him, and another ten before he spoke up.

"Hey, you asleep back there?"

Blast Off didn't dignify that with an answer.

"Oh, you're trying to ignore me.  I see how it is.  Play the docile little submissive goody-goody, and I'll give you what you want."  He laughed.  "Well, I wish you the best of luck with that." 

Vortex's words were cocky as ever, but when he turned back towards his movie, it was with hesitant movements.  Perfect.  He was getting bored.  Vortex was the chief interrogator of the Decepticons on Earth.  His resilience was no joke.  But outlasting a stubborn prisoner and outlasting his date were two entirely different matters.  He'd crack soon enough, and then . . . and then what?  Blast Off couldn't see Vortex finding a way to redeem date night now.  His dignity had been far too reduced for that.  What a waste of time.

As predicted, it only took another five minutes for the lack of attention to get to Vortex.  He crawled to his feet, taking a moment to throw a false swipe at their stupid human spectators.

"Boo!"

The little squishies scattered like ants, crying and screaming all the while.

"Vortex," Blast Off grumbled, head pounding too much to put up with high-pitched shrieking.  "Quit antagonizing the humans."

Vortex peered up, optics alight with a mischievous smile.  "Why Blast Off, that's Autobot talk right there!  Are you going soft?"

"It's tacky."  Blast Off rolled his eyes behind his visor, struggling slightly against his chains.

Vortex laughed, stepping closer, stopping inches away.  Blast Off could feel that delicious energy field brush against his own – he couldn't stave off a shudder.  Annoyed as he was, he still craved the copter's touch.  How annoying.

"Would ya look at Mr. High-and-Mighty?  Oooh, so unflappable, even at a time like this."  A single finger reached out, lingering just out of reach of Blast Off's helm.  Blast Off couldn't help himself; he strained for it, relishing the glorious sensory overload delivered upon making real physical contact.  Usually he wasn't this sensitive, but he also usually he wasn't kept waiting in uncomfortable anticipation for an hour and a half.

Contact breeched, Vortex allowed his fingers to stroll across Blast Off's face, dipping beneath his tracing the seams of his faceplate, silently begging for access to those soft lips.  Blast Off's face plate snapped open to invite him in. 

"Ooh, eager, are we?" Vortex laughed, but the mockery was empty.  Blast Off could feel his partner's deep-coded need for physical contact washing over him, singing every one of his sensors to life with its hungry electric buzz, even from this barely-touching position.  He was fooling nobody, least of all when he rose up on tip toes, rotors fanning out for balance (in a display that would've gone right to Blast Off's spike, had he been at a different orientation) and faceplate sliding open, and sought out Blast Off's lips with his own.  Blast Off had never participated in an upside down kiss before – it was very awkward, somewhat uncomfortable, and incredibly fragging hot.  His tongue shot out to meet Vortex's, and oh how he wished for use of his arms right now – he really would have loved to drag Vortex closer, squeeze his arms tight, cup his helm – pummel him into oblivion.  Whatever.

All too soon, that bastard was pulling away, a wide smile on his lips.  "Mmm, getting' hot in here.  _Someone's_ excited to be getting' a little attention.  Not that I'm complaining."  His rotors stretched out, locking into flight position, and spinning, just fast enough to get a breeze going.  It felt like an ice bath on Blast Off's indeed, overheated frame.

"Vortex!  Argh!"

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he chuckled, moving in for another kiss, his hands finding their way upwards to pinch and prod at the vents on Blast Off's chest.  Blast Off couldn't stave off the heavy groan at that.

"Heheh, Primus, you're so needy.  Good thing I'm here to help.  This is gonna be the best!"  His deft claws stretched up as high as they could, grasping onto Blast Off's sides at the base of his heavy chest, and hoisting himself upwards.  The ceiling creaked ominously under the additional weight.  Blast Off thought to complain, but one of the humans beat him to it, her high-pitched shriek grating on sensitized audio receptors.

With an angry sigh, Vortex hopped back to the floor, and in a surprisingly graceful motion, dropped to his hands and knees, lowering himself to the ground until he was face-to-face with the hysterical fleshbag (and giving Blast Off a delightful view of his aft in the process).

"Hey!" he snapped, effectively silencing the shrieking, though the tiny creature kept right on sobbing.  "I swear, you're like your own little weapon of mass destruction.  It's rude, is what it is.  You don't see _me_ interrupting _your_ date night, do you?"

Blast Off took in the appearance of the second human, at the side of the first, who had taken it upon his idiot self to start wrestling uselessly with Vortex's outstretched fingers, in some misguided effort to lead the titanic creature away.  "Actually, I think you did just that."

"Oh!" exclaimed Vortex in mock embarrassment.  "My apologies then.  You get right back to human interfacing – grinding each other's gear shafts, or whatever it is you people do."  He hopped back to his feet, inches away from squishing the squishies in the process.  But he had lost interest in them – didn't even notice as the pair made a break for the emergency exit, nor the handful of others that followed.  Though he played it cool, he was every bit as hot as Blast Off.

"Now, where were we?"

"Your fat aft was about to bring down the ceiling," Blast Off griped.  Being suspended mid-air with Vortex's cute little copter body clinging to him like a turbosloth was undeniably hot.  The same occurring while he was dangling from a flimsy human ceiling was certainly less so.  Vortex was so very close to showing Blast Off a legitimately good time.  Was he _trying_ to fuck it up?

"Sorry, which of us is the fat-aft, Mr. Won't=Stop-Reminding-People-He's-A=Fucking-Space-Shuttle?"  He laughed and launched himself back into position, his aft resting awkwardly on Blast Off's chin, hands groping at Blast Off's own aft, the suddenness of the motion sending them swinging wildly.  But though the ceiling dipped, it still held up.  "From the looks of it, you are.  But what a nice aft it is."  He squeezed at the unyielding metal, working his claws into sensitive seams, that left Blast Off's heavy head spinning.

"Well," he choked, finding difficulty in even opening his mouth to speak with this new weight on it.  "At least one of us has a nice aft."

His taunt was met with a burst of pain, as those claws dug into his interface panel with all their might.  He cried out in response.  "Frag!  Vortex, watch it!"

"Hmm?  You know you love it."  Though to his credit, he loosened his hold, instead running a gentle tongue over the tiny incision.  "Mmm, you're on fire.  Open up already."

Blast Off didn't need to be told twice.  His valve cover shot open, unleashing a wave of dense heat over Vortex's waiting face.

"Valve?  I was hoping for something a little more substantial to sink my teeth into."

Blast Off groaned at the thought.  "One: you are not getting your monster teeth anywhere near my spike ever again.  Two: you can either have me upside down, or you can have my spike.  Take your pick."

"So boring," Vortex snickered, but he shimmied up Blast Off nonetheless, until his skilled tongue was tracing outlines along Blast Off's oft-neglected valve.  For once, Blast Off had no retort.  He didn't want Vortex talking right now anyway.  He wanted Vortex to keep right on doing what he was doing.  He wanted that tongue encircling him, lapping hungrily at the free-flowing lubricants, lathering his anterior node, dipping between his pliable folds for a quick taste, before darting out again to start all over.  Vortex thought he was being clever, teasing him so, but the joke was on him.  No one had more patience than Blast Off.  He wasn't the type to want to climax as quickly as possible and be done with it – that was _Vortex's_ type.  Blast Off was the type to relish in the slow build of charge, allowing each pleasurable sensation to wash over him, consume him.  He felt divine right now.

Of course, Vortex's patience could only hold so long.  At last, he shimmied up a little further for better leverage, dipping his tongue in as far as it would go – not very far, but he got points for effort.  One of his hands had found its way to the top of Blast Off's valve, working away at his anterior node, while the other rested on his aft, gently digging sharp clawtips into sensitive transformation seams, and damned if it didn't feel good.  It was quite the effort to not crush that delicious little copter's head between his thighs, hold him closer.  Vortex would probably even be into that. 

But pleasured as he was, it was hard to ignore the creaking overhead as they shifted and swayed.  Surely the thing couldn't hold their combined weight for much –

And that was Vortex biting down on his anterior node.

"Arrrgh!  Fuck fuck fuck!"  His legs kicked out wildly, trying to dislodge the little pest.  _Why_ had he thought this was a good idea?

"Don't fall asleep on me, Blast Off!" that stupid little devil laughed, before diving back in, deep as he could.  Blast Off was already over-stimulated, pained, pleasured, and trying his hardest not to writhe in his restraints, which became significantly harder to do, once Vortex's tongue found a particularly dense node cluster.  Blast Off couldn't stave off the wail, legs kicking out, body twisting and shaking as the charge escaped him, as Vortex continued to lap him up, as the damned ceiling finally gave way.

At least Blast Off was no longer helplessly upside down.  Nope.  Now he was uncomfortably twisted, back arched much too far, until he'd pulled a contortionist act and his aft was over his head.  Vortex had taken a beam to the helm and lay cackling in the rubble at his side, one of his rotors bent out of shape, but otherwise all right.  Blast Off wanted to scream.

"You idiot!  Look what you've done!"

Vortex continued to laugh.  The fall must have knocked him silly.  Which was annoying, because Blast Off was tired of being chained up, and Vortex was the only one who could free him.  He vented a heavy sigh, and wriggled, until he was flat on his belly, legs falling across Vortex's prone, giggling form.

"Oh man, we gotta do that again!" he screeched, wrapping his arms around Blast Off's gifted limbs, squeezing and petting like they were much softer than they were.  "That was amazing!"

"Yes, amazing," Blast Off said, without sincerity.  "And high profile.  The Autobots will be here for sure.  Unchain me so we can get out of here."

"Hmm," Vortex pondered, relinquishing his hold on Blast Off's legs and crawling out from underneath that heavy frame.  On hands and knees, he grabbed hold of the chain and pulled, but all he accomplished was rolling Blast Off onto his back.  He frowned, optics scrunching up in perplexed amusement.

"I don't like that look," Blast Off said, doing an admirable job of keeping the anxiety out of his voice.  "What's wrong?  Don't tell me you forgot how to undo this."

Vortex threw a leg over Blast Off's frame and seated himself atop that narrow waist, hands resting on the center link, which all the chains hung from.  A lazy smile formed on his face plates.  "Oh no, I haven't forgotten.  I was just thinking – you're no longer upside down, and really, how fair is it that you get to have all the fun?"

"Vortex," Blast Off groaned.  "We don't have time to –"

"I'm not letting you out 'til you satisfy me."

Blast Off rolled his eyes.  "Okay.  Fine.  You win.  Just be quick.  The last thing I want is for Optimus Prime to see my spike."  His spike cover flew open as he spoke, and Vortex turned around, shimmying down his belly, until the lips of his own open valve brushed against it.

"Why not?  It's such a lovely spike."

"Vortex!"

"Okay, okay."  He rose up on his knees and inched forward until his valve was held just over the tip of Blast Off's spike, allowing a stream of lubricants to trickle down upon him.  Primus, Vortex was wet.   But Blast Off thankfully didn't have time to dwell on how very hot his partner was.  Vortex had paused scarcely two seconds before he dropped, seating himself in one quick motion, and letting out a sharp cry in the process.  Blast Off was hardly small – taking all of him at once was no easy feat.  He'd be surprised if Vortex hadn't broken something in doing so, but the little masochist hardly seemed to care.  He was grinding his hips soon enough, sending fresh charge down through Blast Off's hungry spike, and leaving a lovely view of his backside, unlocked rotors, fanned out behind him in an elegant display, as they dripped energon from broken and bent edges –  Primus, that lovely, broken image left Blast Off even hotter than he was before.  He wanted to reach out, wanted to grab those lovely hips, squeeze them until they were as dented as his rotors, but alas, the damned chains made it impossible.  Oh well.  Vortex was a greedy mech; he wouldn't last long.

And indeed, he had been seated for barely two minutes until his whole frame jolted, legs kicking out frantically behind him, valve clenching, overloading, filling Blast Off with heat and sensation and pleasure until he himself, could hold out no longer.  His own spike was quick to follow, shooting off into that twitching, squealing mech until he at last collapsed forward, sliding off Blast Off's spike and onto the dusty remains of the ceiling.

The copter lay still for a long minute, making no sound save for the heavy heaving of his vents.  Blast Off really hoped he hadn't hurt himself too badly.  If Vortex couldn't move, then he couldn't unchain Blast Off, and then they'd both be left vulnerable when the Autobots inevitably –

"What the frag did we just walk in on?!"  Nope.  Never mind.  There they were.  Ironhide, and Bumblebee,and Optimus Fucking _Prime_ from what little he could see from the ground.  Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Did you guys just – like, you knocked down the theater by . . ."  Bumblebee was actually blushing.  Primus, this was embarrassing.  But while the little one was flustered, his partners were a bit less rufflable.  Ironhide had his liquid nitrogen at the ready, Optimus his blaster, and here the two Combaticons were, on the floor and ripe for the shooting.

"Oh, oh man!  Yeah, we did that," Vortex chuckled.  "Pretty great.  You should try it."

Blast Off shook his head.  "If we survive this, I am going to kill you."

~~~

In the end, they did survive, and in the end, Blast Off did not, in fact, kill Vortex.  They'd been taken prisoner; the Decepticons arrived two days later to break them out.  Megatron made a show of 'punishing' them with brig time, and then they went back to their normal lives.  And that was the end of it.

Blast Off wasn't entirely sure how to feel about the whole thing.  On the one hand, he was painfully aware that the whole affair could have gone spectacularly poorly for them.  They could have wound up dead, or worse – back in the last place that any Combaticon wanted to be.  Blast Off tried not to think about it.

But they hadn't.  They'd survived, and, if Blast Off was being honest with himself, he really _had_ enjoyed it, even if it was only in retrospect.  And that was why, when Vortex suggested chains again, what else could Blast Off say but:

"Frag yes."


End file.
